


Bad!Pr0n

by aprilraven, ladydragon76



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprilraven/pseuds/aprilraven, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was my birthday.  We were drinking.  We were RP’ing.  We were laughing our afts off.  If you missed the “parody” tag, or weren’t clued in by the title, be forewarned here and now.  This is meant to be awful, and we think we accomplished the goal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad!Pr0n

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** G1  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Pairings:** Optimus/Sunstreaker  
>  **Warnings:** Oh gods, such nonsense...  
>  **Notes:** We are not responsible for broken brains.

Prime dragged the struggling golden mech in by the scruff of his neck and threw him on the floor. The lock on the door clicked. "Slut,” Prime snarled.

Sunstreaker huddled in confusion and fear on the floor, bright cerulean optics wide as he stared up at Prime.

Prime smirked wide, his olfactory sensors inhaling the sweet satisfying scent of fear.

Sunstreaker whimpered. "Wha-"

“Did I give you permission to speak?” Prime growled.

Sunstreaker cowered, shifting to his knees and bowing low with his forehead on the floor by Prime's feet.

The crack of the energon whip unfurling, echoed through the room.

Sunstreaker shivered as the electro-whip slithered and crackled on the floor so close he could feel the energy. He whimpered again, praying for Prime to tell him what he did wrong, why he was so angry, why he'd already taken the whip out...

“You think I wouldn't notice how you looked at Prowl?” The whip slithered across the shivering mech's aft.

"Prowl? I wasn't looking at Prowl! I swear! Master?!" Sunstreaker shook harder. Prowl? What could Prime mean? He'd barely saw the black and white tactician before Prime had stormed in and dragged him away.

Prime smirked at the cowering mech at his feet. The mind fuckery alone was heating his systems up nicely. He planted a foot on the golden mech's aft and watched him sprawl across the floor.

Sunstreaker's vents huffed in an "Ooomph!" sound as he landed on - SQUEE! - his front. He didn't dare to move, but he could beg! "Please, master! Prime! Sir! Please, I swear I wasn't looking at Prowl or anyone else in any way that would dishonor you! I swear! Please!"

Prime snarled again. "And I didn't give you permission to speak!" The whip crackled and snaked forward, leaving bright glowing marks on the yellow mech's armor.

Sunstreaker cried out, the shout echoing within the confines of Prime's office. He wisely bit his lip, and said no more.

The whip cracked again, curling around the golden mech's throat. Prime laughed, watching the mech grab his throat, then gave the whip a hard yank.

Sunstreaker forced his knees under him to take some of the strain off his throat. His fingers continued to pry feebly at the whip, but it was wound too many times around his neck for an easy escape. Not that he'd dare try to escape his Prime, his master. But it hurt, and he couldn't quite stop himself from trying to dig his fingers under it and gain some relief.

Prime stalked forward until his massive frame towered over Sunstreaker. “If I say you were looking at someone, you were looking. You don't protest, you don't whine. And if you can't find something better to do with your mouth, I'll help you." One large hand grasped the golden helmet. "You want that whip off? Show me how much you want it, slut," Prime purred.

Happy for the chance to show his Prime he was all his, Sunstreaker began nuzzling and licking and kissing the large mech's interface panel. He quickly bit back the joy he felt as heat began emanating from the cobalt panel. Prime didn’t like seeing him happy.

Prime watched Sunstreaker with glittering optics. His hips rocked slightly, his interface equipment swelling behind the panel. "Moan for me, slut," Prime growled. "Show me how much you love this."

Sunstreaker obeyed instantly, moaning loud and low. He licked and sucked the deep blue metal, imagining the thick spike just waiting for him behind it.

Prime stepped back. His interface panel clicked and slid back. His spike extending to its full, prodigious length. One massive hand gripped it, stroking along the length. Mechly fluid began dribbling from the tip. Prime smirked, watching Sunstreaker's cerulean optics grow wide. Prime stepped forward again, until the tip of his spike touched Sunstreaker's lips. Mech fluid dribbled down his chin. "Lick it," Prime ordered softly, "and don't stop until I say."

Sunstreaker's plush lips parted and his tongue peeked out, tentatively caressing the weeping tip of Prime's spike. He knew how Prime liked him to play demure when they both knew he was aching for it. Hesitantly, with his optics locked on Prime's, Sunstreaker slowly licked up and down the big spike.

"Suck me, whore," Prime growled. His hand working his awesomely thick spike, sending more sweet, satisfying mechly fluid dribbling down Sunstreaker's chin.

Sunstreaker eagerly swallowed the thick spike, tongue swirling and writhing against the hard length. He moaned again, feeling lubricant leak from the seams of his interface panel and down his thighs. He didn’t dare open that panel yet, not without his master’s approval. But maybe... maybe if he was good enough, Prime would grant him that boon.

"Hey!" Prime snapped, as Sunstreaker's denta bumped into his massive fist. "Watch where you're going! Stupid, clumsy..." Prime seethed. Now he'd lost the rhythm completely. His spike sagged, hanging like a limp electrical cord from Sunstreaker's lips. "Grrr.." Prime growled. "No boon for you!"

Sunstreaker pulled back as far as the whip around his neck let him and pouted. He hated when that happened. He always got blamed. Now he'd need to work twice as hard! Forcing his expression to one of contrition and submission, Sunstreaker locked licked a slow, winding path along Prime's limp noodle of a cord. He'd get his master back up.

Primus, thought Prime, watching Sunstreaker's efforts with a sulky expression. Don't tell me Ratchet has to come and give me a jump to get this going again. Fragging, frelling... "Harder," he snapped, watching those lovely cushie lips wrapping around his noodle- er spike.

Sunstreaker redoubled his efforts, sucking hard, thinking about how long he'd had to wait for an overload the last time this happened and Ratchet had to come jumpstart Prime's programming. He moaned, tugging helplessly at the whip around his throat, knowing the submission and his helplessness always turned the big Autobot leader on, and took Prime deep. He purred as he felt the first signs of returning life to Prime's spike, letting the vibrations of sound roll through his master.

Finally, thought Prime, and yanked Sunstreaker's helmet hard. "More! Louder! More purring, slut!" That's it, he thought with relief as the golden mech's lips pressed hard to his pelvic plate. He could feel his spike start to swell again. No visit from Ratchet meant the whole Ark wouldn't have to know about his failure... again. The medic had a mouth bigger than Cybertron.

Sunstreaker sucked hard, doing his best to imitate a Hoover. He moaned and purred and even groaned, and felt his lubricant begin to pool again as Prime swelled in his mouth.

Hot damn. Prime loved it when Sunstreaker did his Hoover imitation. “Mmmmm,” Prime groaned as Sunstreaker hoovered him. Something tickled his foot. "What is that," he muttered. "Slag!" he swore, glaring at Sunstreaker's lubricant dripping onto his foot.

Sunstreaker could hardly be embarrassed by how dripping wet he was. Prime's spike felt so good in his mouth, on his tongue. He wanted that big spike buried root deep in his port!

He glared at Sunstreaker, who showed not an ounce of remorse in those pretty cerulean optics of his. "You're walking a fine line, little whore," Prime snapped, then relented, slightly mollified, as Sunstreaker's tongue rasped along the ridges of his spike. Prime groaned and grabbed the twin earfins, pumping the mech's purty little mouth.

“Oohhh… That’s right! Use that purty mouth, slut!”

Sunstreaker moaned again as Prime used his mouth, swallowing reflexively as the huge spike slid into his throat. He reveled at Prime's low groan, and relaxed into the strong pull and push on his head.

Not... quite... enough... Prime growled, trying for more friction. Gah! He gave up, pulling back sharply. His spike popping out of Sunstreaker's mouth. He shoved the mech's head to the floor and knelt down behind him, pulling the golden mech's hips up high. “Open!”

Sunstreaker was obeying even as the command was given, arching his back and mewling in lust as Prime grabbed his hips and shoved his knees between Sunstreaker's.

"Spread 'em," Prime growled, and hauled the slim hips up even higher, positioning his now gratifyingly not-limp spike at Sunstreaker's valve.

Sunstreaker did, and writhed wantonly as Prime shoved his huge thick spike into his sopping port. Prime's moan was low and sexy, and Sunstreaker shuddered, already halfway to overload.

Prime rammed himself home in his slut's tight port, sending himself a memo to thank his big-mouthed medic for tightening it so nicely.

Sunstreaker gasped, crying out as he was filled over and over, and just managed to make a note to himself to thank Ratchet for tightening his port up. Prime's huge spike rubbed over ever sensor node, sending him closer and closer to overload with every hardy thrust.

Prime thrust hardily into the slick, tight heated port. He grunted. He snorted. He huffed and puffed. Feeling those metal walls grabbing his spike's ridges.

Sunstreaker pushed his hips back, rocking and arching and moaning. Oh Prime was so big! So filling! Just a little more... A few more good thrusts over his sensor nodes...

The loud backfire echoed through the room. Prime sagged as Sunny stiffened beneath him. Slag... slagslagslag... they needed a better energon source. This crap was wreaking havoc on his fuel pump. "Don't," Prime warned, as the golden mech started shaking, "don't even go there." Frag, too late. He could feel his spike starting to wilt again. A massive hand dragged over his faceplates. Prime sighed. “Ratchet,” he roared through his commlink. “Get your aft to my quarters, NOW!!”

Sunstreaker laid his head down on his forearms, shaking in unslaked lust as Prime's spike wilted again. Primus! He couldn't care less if the slagger backfired, so long as he kept fucking him. But noooo... The least little thing and... flop... there the Great Optimus Prime goes. Sunstreaker whimpered and refused to move or look up as the office door opened under the medic's codes and Ratchet entered.

Prime's optics narrowed, glaring as a wide smirk spread across the medic's faceplates. "What was it this time?" the medic snickered, then stopped and made face. "Never mind." He smacked Sunny's aft as he walked past, laughing as the mech wiggled in protest. "How's that new port working out for you? Or did Prime lose it before he broke it in?" Ratchet tsked and plugged in to the leader, sending a stream of command codes to reinitiate interfacing. Prime breathed a sigh of relief when his massive spike swelled up once more.

Sunstreaker moaned with the feeling of Prime enlarging to full size within him again. Prime’s hands clamped down on his hips and the big mech thrust once, twice, and a third time… Then overloaded with a bellow.

Sunstreaker forced back a frustrated huff.

“Hmm. I better check that port, Sunny. You done with him, Prime?”

Prime didn’t notice the medic’s sly smirk or how Sunstreaker’s optics brightened with interest, and merely waved them both away.


End file.
